burnt lungs, sour taste
by city never sleeps
Summary: and the worst things in life come free to us because we're just under the upper hand; it's too cold outside for angels to fly. au. massington one-shot


_a/n_: i've written and rewritten this story numerous times, and i think it's finally as close to perfection as it'll ever get [which is very far]. i haven't done a one-shot in a while, and i'm still a little [very] rusty. this will be my winter fic this year - maybe there will be more, maybe not; i haven't decided yet. just a heads up, this is a **long** one. merry christmas, everyone.

[x]

**burnt lungs, sour taste **

_Stuck in her daydream  
>Been this way since 18<br>But lately her face seems  
>Slowly sinking, wasting <em>

* * *

><p>"Do you maybe wanna go-<p>

"No."

"Oh...okay."

[x]

Massie is always _not there_.

Derrick wonders when she'll ever get back from that one-way trip to her breakdown; when she'll ever just be Massie and not the sniveling, uptight bitch everyone has watched her become.

She didn't used to be like this: rebellious, angry, secluded. Massie Block used to be the epitome of joy, an entanglement of intoxicating bliss. Derrick used to be enchanted by her, but now he just wants to close his eyes and make her disappear under the blanket of darkness and watch her never come back. He wants to hold his breath until his lungs burn and when he finally releases his breath, that enticing spicy scent that is _so so _Massie will finally dissipate.

[x]

Derrick hates masquerades. He thinks they are a lame excuse to dance drunkenly with people you don't recognize so you won't regret it the next morning when you wake up and your hangover has pounded some sense into your burdened brain.

He especially hates masquerades that are totally irrelevant to the occasion it is celebrating, but he came to Alicia Rivera's holiday ball anyway.

But under the vast expanse of twinkling yellow Christmas lights hung on the ballroom ceiling, Derrick can see Massie dancing with another masked stranger. She is wearing a champagne colored gauzy dress that is much too scandalous for such an event, but it suits her perfectly. The thick mane of chestnut hair that frames her pale face is piled on to the top of her head with a million glittery pins that flicker like the stars as she twirls languidly. She is always the center of attention without any intention of being it.

Derrick blinks his eyes because he can't watch her for more than a minute. It's always shocking, but the longer he stares at her, the more she reminds him of the way she used to be when she wasn't so _tipsy _all the time.

The moment he opens his eye, though, she's already gone - already moved on. And when the cheesy, over-played Christmas song finally finishes its droning from the stereos, Derrick catches a flash of shimmering material running out the balcony door in the corner of his eye. He instantly recognizes who it is and foolishly chases after her.

The cold air hits him like a wall, and he shudders before taking another step outside.

"Derrington," she drawls.

She always has this way of knowing his presence, but he dares to ask anyway. "How did you know it was me?"

The way she gracefully twists from the balcony to face him is breathtaking; like uncovering a book and pouring greedily into its essence. He smiles at the way she is inquisitively looking at him. "How, my darling Derrick, how did I know it was you? Well the answer to that question is quite simple."

He chuckles and walks to stand beside her, him facing the wintry outside, her facing the comforting inside. "Would you mind answering it then?"

"There is a certain aura in everyone that makes what you are _you_ - a unique being on this ordinary earth." She pauses dramatically and sweeps around to overlook the snowy landscape. A snowflake falls on her eyelash and she blows it off with her steamy breath before continuing. "When I think of Derrick Harrington, I think of knobby knees, dirty soccer jerseys, and maybe a little bit of that raunchy cologne you always wear."

"What makes my cologne raunchy?" He raises an eyebrow, amused.

She giggles and lowers her voice. "It makes me want to do dirty things with you."

"Really?" He tries not to take her then and there.

"Really."

They don't speak for a moment and silently listen to the snowflakes fall. Derrick can't help himself: he turns his head so he can have the perfect view of her profile. In the yellowy glow of the indoor lights, Massie Block looks like a dreamer - like she could be floating on a cloud right at this moment. She sighs and flickers her gaze towards him.

The air stops moving.

Their faces inch closer.

"What kind of dirty things do you want to do?" His voice is raw and he thinks he sounds like an idiot.

Her perfect ruby lips turn up faintly. "Kissing is on the top of the list."

Everything is suddenly Massie. The air, the taste, the touch, _all_ Massie.

"Then kiss me."

She releases a breathy laugh and prances away from the railing. "You're silly, Derrick Harrington. I'm cold." The yellow light floods the dim outside momentarily as she opens the door to go back inside, and then it's dark again.

He smiles bitterly to himself, but he can still smell the alcohol on her breath even after she's left.

[x]

When he walks past the girls' bathroom, he hears the awful groans of retching. He pauses for a moment, contemplating walking away, but he can't bring himself to do it.

The door creaks at his touch, and he pushes it open slowly.

The vomiting stops.

"Hello?" He asks apprehensively.

"You shouldn't be in here. This is the _girls' _bathroom, as in females _only_." The response was quick and biting; Derrick instantly recognizes who it is.

"Massie?"

The toilet flushes. "Oh _god_."

[x]

"We should talk about what happened yesterday."

"Nothing happened yesterday."

She denies it, typically. Derrick pushes on. "Were you throwing up?"

Her amber eyes roll up. "No, I was singing my favorite song." Sarcastic, as usual.

He touches her arm gently. "Were you feeling sick?"

"No." Her voice is hindered.

"Are you... pregnant?"

She smacks his arm quickly. "Fuck no."

"Then what-

"I'm bulimic."

They don't talk about it anymore after that.

[x]

She inhales the sour smoke, and although it scorches her lungs, she likes the way it makes her feel afterwards.

It's as if the smoke blocks out the disturbing images that race around in her head and washes them all out with its addictive pungency.

Her eyes close instinctively and her head falls back against the icy pane of her window. She feels free this way; away from the life that seems to be binding her down.

And just as she was about to light up another cigarette, a knock sounds at her door and the disappointment couldn't be anymore painful.

"Come in." Her voice is scratchy, but she doesn't care. She quickly drops her cigarette into the carpet and stubs it out with her bare toe. The ashes are kicked under her bed carelessly.

Derrick Harrington walks in with a scowl on his pretty face. "Your room smells foul."

"Thanks, so do you." A quick snarky comment is best at deferring the conversation.

He narrows his eyes. "Have you been smoking?"

She laughs with her head back. "Are you kidding?"

"Massie." He doesn't look convinced. "Massie, are you smoking in here?"

"Would you like something to drink?" She pushes her window open with one hand and twirls a strand of her ebony hair with the other. Without another word, she breezes past him - down the stairs - having avoided yet another dreaded confrontation with reality.

[x]

They're sitting on his couch and she's playing with the golden strands of his unshorn hair while he attempts to focus on his schoolwork. Her toes are digging into the side of his denim-covered thigh as she leans her body closer to his.

His eyes shift discreetly towards her and he notices the hole in her right sock. A soft chuckle escapes his lips.

"What?" She moves her hands away and sits back defensively.

"Nothing." He shakes his head with a smile.

She crosses her arms. "Derrick, what?"

He closes his book and shifts himself so that he is sitting cross-legged, facing her. "There's a hole in your sock."

She looks down and wiggles her toes animatedly. "Problem?"

"No." He can feel her piercing awareness. "I like it."

"Oh." She wrinkles her eyebrows. "That's weird."

"It makes you real."

"So without these pathetic imperfections, I'm unreal?"

"No. Without these pathetic imperfections, I wouldn't know who you are anymore."

She inhales sharply. "I don't know what you mean by that."

"Of course you wouldn't."

His book falls on the floor as she gets up from the couch abruptly and storms out of his house.

[x]

"Massie, I'm sorry." He feels ridiculous, standing on her porch at eleven at night, but it's the right thing to do.

She looks at him coldly, but invites him in anyway. "Why are you here?" She walks into the kitchen and pours herself a glass of water.

He stands there awkwardly. "I'm sorry about what I said the other day - about you not being you."

"Hmm." She sips her water noisily and sets the cup down. "I forgive you."

"That was fast," he breathes.

The distance between them disappears and soon, she's standing right in front of him, looking up at his golden eyes, her hands burying themselves in his sweatshirt. "No one has ever apologized to me before," she whispers softly.

His arms fall around her waist and he sighs. "You're special to me, Massie Block."

Her face snuggles into his chest. "You're special to me too, Derrick Harrington."

And this time, they actually kiss.

Her breath tastes like mint toothpaste and sweet vanilla. He revels in it because he knows it won't last long. He feels like he's on a roller coaster, just on the brink before falling.

Roaming hands are all over his body, and soon they're an entanglement of limbs on a downy bed. He smiles secretly to himself. Maybe she's finally caught on.

[x]

She watches his face like it's her favorite television show. "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

The snow storm outside is howling, but they're hiding under the covers, snuggling warmth. He closes his eyes in thought. "I think I want to be a doctor." He whispers, amused and slightly self-conscious from her unabashed staring.

She smiles against his arm. "You always aim so high, Derrick."

He shrugs. "There's nothing wrong with dreaming big."

"Until you fall from your high pedestal and bruise your precious ego." Her smile falls.

He twists so they're lying face to face. "What do _you_ want to be when you grow up then, Miss Block?"

She frowns now. "There are a lot of options out there."

"So then pick one."

"I can't reach them."

"I'll give you a lift."

"I'm afraid of falling."

"I'll catch you."

The smile is back and it's as brilliant as the universe.

[x]

Derrick thinks the shabby plastic reindeer family in the corner of the cafeteria is too much to handle.

"Is it really necessary to have fucking Christmas decorations everywhere I look?"

Massie shrugs. "It's all about the superficies now-a-days; the semblance if you know what I mean."

He smiles because she always speaks with such an air that he has never really been able to follow. "Actually, I don't."

She sighs. "The school puts in effort because they know all the students want to get the hell out of here and go home."

Derrick pauses to think for a moment, and then a brilliant idea pops into his head. "Let's do that."

"Do what?" She puts her unbitten sandwich down slowly.

"Let's get out of here."

She looks at him incredulously. "And go where?"

"I don't know. Anywhere but here." He's smiling uncontrollably, and it is awfully contagious.

"Okay." She takes his hand. "Let's get the hell out of here."

They end up in the coffee shop they haven't visited in around two years. The place hasn't changed at all, which is slightly melancholic. Their usual booth is unoccupied, and their legs walk towards it with a mind of their own.

She orders a hot chocolate with exactly six marshmallows and he orders one with exactly eight.

"I haven't been here in a while." She gives the menus to the waiter and eyes Derrick curiously.

"I know."

"Why did you take me here?"

He tries to avoid the subject, but it fails obviously. "I just kind of drove instinctively."

She nods. "I've been thinking about the times we've spent here lately and I kinda miss it. I miss the us we used to have."

Derrick looks at her in disbelief. "Massie, you're not _you_ half the time I see you."

"What?" She blinks rapidly.

"I mean..." He runs a hand through his hair roughly. "You're drunk all the time, Massie. I'm worried about you. You're destroying yourself and I want to help."

"You don't need to do that." Her voice is blocked. No emotion. No signals.

"You're like my best-

She shakes her head. "Don't say it. Don't say _anything_."

"Okay." He sighs. "I won't say anything."

She smiles at him warily, but her eyes are glassy. "Thank you."

Their drinks arrive and he hides his disappointment behind his mug. "No problem."

[x]

"I'm trying, okay?" She's screaming and furniture is flying and Derrick just stands there, taking blow after blow. "It's hard for me, okay? I'm trying, Derrick, _I am_, but you have to give me some time!"

Her tears flow rapidly down her pale cheeks, but Derrick doesn't say anything. He feels like she's not trying hard enough. "How much more time do you need, Massie? It's been years!"

"You don't even know what I'm going through!" She spits her words out like venom, and even if they do sting, Derrick doesn't show it. "You don't know a thing!"

"You're only hurting yourself here. Just quit."

"You're constantly hounding me on quitting, and I _want _to but it's _so fucking hard_!" Her voice strangles on her tears and she crumples onto the floor in a heap of desperation.

Derrick's chest is heaving, but he doesn't give in. "Massie, I want you to take a look around you. Are you happy with where you're at?"

Her head shakes weakly.

"Then do something about it." He doesn't know why he feels it necessary to be the enemy in this situation, but all he knows is that it's the only way to get her full attention.

She crawls to him and lays by his feet. "What if I can't stop?"

He looks down at her blankly. "Try."

Then he walks away and out the door, and closes it just before she throws a lamp towards him. He can still hear her screaming and crying as he walks down the street.

[x]

It's Christmas night and he wonders where the hell she is if she's not at home and she's not answering her phone.

In the past hour since 11, he has been calling her nonstop because all he wants to tell her before Christmas is over is one simple thing. One simple thing that he has been hiding for years.

And even though she has changed a lot lately, and even though their relationship is no longer based on honesty and trust, he still wishes she could at least _know _the words he wants to spill so desperately.

He calls her one more time before midnight, and once again she doesn't answer. But as one last hopeless attempt at reaching her, he leaves her a voicemail in which he leaves his heart as well.

[x]

_'Hi, Massie. This is Derrick.' _He doesn't pause for dramatic effect, he pauses because his mind is reeling and yet he still doesn't know what to say. '_Um... I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas, wherever you are.' _And then the words just start pouring out like a waterfall and he knows there's no way to stop going now, so he continues to spill his heart out to an automated answering machine because that's the best thing he'll get this year. _'I'm worried about you, Massie. You're always drunk and it scares me sometimes. There are so many things you think I don't know, but Massie - I can see. I can see you hurting yourself with drugs and alcohol and you know what? It hurts me, too. So if you really love me and care about me, the best Christmas present I could ever get this year would be for you to stop. Just stop, okay? I want you in my life forever and ever and ever until the universe itself finds an end to existence.' _He clears his throat one last time. '_Merry Christmas, Mass. I love you.'_

[x]

She lays in the hot mess, not moving, not smiling.

Everything happened so quickly she wasn't even able to trigger a reflexive response from her body, and now her car is turned over in some ditch by the side of a desolate road. She doesn't really remember anything and her blood is rushing to her head; she can even hear it in her ears.

It sounds sort of musical, she thinks, because everything else is so eerily silent.

Massie feels sort of comfortable hanging upside down in her car. Something warm is trickling down her spine and drenching her cocktail dress, but she is too lazy to look. She wonders if the warm liquid would add a refreshing complimentary stain to the ice blue silk of the ratty dress she's currently adorned in.

She doesn't really feel anything; it's just there. The sharp scent of leaking gasoline, coppery waves of fresh blood, and burning smoke makes her eyes water, but she doesn't want to see anything anyway.

Her phone was ringing - she's remembering _something_ now - but she just wanted it to stop. The sounds hurt her head and the vodka wasn't doing much to numb it out. She remembers seeing a bright lights, and then feeling the world spin round.

Massie laughs to herself. How could she have been so careless? It was obviously a car driving towards her, not a giant Christmas tree. All of a sudden, laughing hurts. Breathing hurts. Thinking hurts. Suddenly, everything hurts. She doesn't want to be here anymore. She wants to go home.

Her eyes fight to stay open and she her mind hysterically heaves up happy memories to keep her alive; to keep her on the positive side. They're mostly violent flashes of her sober moments with Derrick, and she is surprisingly okay with that. But then, Massie realizes something utterly trenchant: her own mind doesn't even know the kind of person she is. She was never one for optimism.

As the wailing sounds of approaching sirens drive nearer, Massie doesn't really want to think anymore so she closes her eyes for a while, forever.

* * *

><p><em>an_: blarghghghgh... i'm an angsty teen and i've been in a pissy mood recently so i kind of needed a form of distraction. although this story was anything but happy, happy holidays my lovelies.


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